Speechless
by Lala Kate
Summary: When the after-effects of Baby Locksley's accelerated development are far greater than anyone ever imagined they would be. Outlaw Queen, Hood-Mills family, Snow Queen brotp, Swan Queen brotp
1. Chapter 1

She's never minded the cold, has actually embraced it over the years, reveling in the sensation of allowing it to soothe her inner fire and calm overheated nerves. And today is no different, even though no demons have resurfaced nor any fireballs been summoned. Regina's nose and feet are a bit too chilly for comfort, but that's nothing she can't handle, not when she's surrounded by laughter and the occasional stray snowball whizzing by, the three males in her life knowing better than to lob one in her direction.

Then there's a tug on her coat, and she turns to the youngest member of their family who now stands waist-high. She holds her gloved hand palm up, her lucid green eyes wide with wonder at the intricate patterns made by a cluster of freshly fallen snow.

"No two are alike, Elena," Regina explains, her movements fluid and sure as she smiles down at the child's uninhibited awe, wiping snow from her daughter's glasses with a gloved finger. "Every snowflake that falls is unique."

The girl stills and looks up at her, the question readable in her eyes before her hands move to speak.

 _Just like people?_

Unique doesn't begin to describe her daughter by choice and circumstance, and Regina swallows hard as she kneels to twirl long, nearly white-blonde locks through her fingers, watching dimples she adores peek out from hiding at her mother's touch.

"Yes," she nods before withdrawing her hand so she can answer. "Just like people."

The spell that had accelerated Elena's development in Zelena's womb had marked the girl in ways that hadn't been clear until she began to grow. Some of the effects were benign, such as the silver-blonde hue of her hair, vastly different than either Robin's or Zelena's but so like Emma's had been when she'd put the girl on a path towards instant growth.

It's odd how very much she looks like Emma.

But other effects, such as the child's inability to hear or speak, those side-effects had been devastating to all of them. And Emma has never forgiven herself for inadvertently marking the child with dark magic– _her_ dark magic, to be specific.

"Hey, Ellie!" Roland yells, prompting Regina to point over the girl's shoulder in the direction of her brothers. "Come on!"

Roland and Henry have effectively teamed up on Robin, a fact which is just as irresistible to a five year old female as it is to the two over-sized lugs pummeling a certain thief with a barrage of snowballs. Elena jumps and claps her hands, her snowflakes now all but forgotten as she dashes to her father's rescue, getting covered by snow in the process.

There will be hot baths and hotter cider for everyone this afternoon, it would seem.

"Save me, Ellie!" Robin cries, his plea followed by a chorus of protests and shouts from Henry and Roland before more snow is thrown about. Robin belly-laughs as he picks up Elena and swings her around, the girl's mouth open in a smile that covers her face. But no sound emerges from her little body, no squeals, no giggles. Regina aches with the raw need to simply hear her daughter laugh or scream, to finally know what her precious little voice sounds like.

Her stomach clenches uncomfortably.

Robin still blames Emma for the loss of Ellie's speech and hearing, although he has put aside his overt hostility for Henry's sake. But Regina can't help but wonder if the muting spell she'd placed on Zelena had left traces of that particular strain of magic in her bloodstream, magic that had been enhanced by a certain batch of onion rings and absorbed by the one innocent in what had been a horrific situation.

 _It was me, Regina, not you._

 _Her hair, and perhaps her deafness, but her speech…_

 _Was all because of me. Her hearing loss happened because I was trying to shut out the voices when I cast that spell, trying to convince myself that what I was doing was for the best. And no matter what sort of muting spell you may have placed on Zelena, it would have never found its way into Elena's DNA if I hadn't…if I hadn't brought about her birth prematurely. I did this Regina–not you. You're not responsible for what happened to your daughter._

Emma is certain. Robin is certain. But at times, Regina still has her doubts.

They head home later, red-nosed and pink-cheeked, each of them receiving a mandatory brush-down before entering the house. Boots are discarded, coats are hung in the utility room before there is a mad dash into the warmth of home. The house smells of a ham and cloves, making four pairs of eyes stare back at her in exaggerated hunger.

"Just a nibble, Mom?" Roland asks as she shoos him towards the downstairs shower.

"That's for dinner, and you know it," she replies, snapping a warning glance towards her husband who has stealthily made his way towards the kitchen. "There had not better not be one pinch missing from that ham, or there will be no dessert for you."

Her hands fly–signing is second-nature for all of them now–and she watches as Robin gives an exaggerated shrug towards Ellie before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at his wife.

 _She's making apple strudel, Daddy. Don't cheat._

Robin laughs and scoops up his daughter, kissing her cheek before setting her back down.

"I won't," he assures her before tickling her belly. Her mouth flies open in a silent laugh, the joy on her features unmistakable. She pushes against her father until he stops and puts her down, placing her hands on her hips in a mock reprimand.

 _Bath, Ellie,_ Regina signs, watching with amusement as a small pink lip juts out in a pout that rivals Roland's.

 _After dinner?_

Regina shakes her head before Ellie's hands still in defeat.

"Now, before everyone comes over."

She may not be able to speak, but Ellie can stomp with the best of them, and she does so up the stairs, letting her mother know in no uncertain terms just how she feels about her fun being interrupted for something as mundane as a bath.

"She knows her own mind, that's for certain," Robin muses as he makes his way towards her. "A Mills woman if ever I saw one." She leans into her husband's chest as strong arms wrap around her from behind, reveling in the warmth and security he offers. "You're thinking too loudly, Regina. What's bothering you?"

She turns in his arms, melting into the feel of his thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

"I just wish…" She pauses as he folds her into his chest.

"I know," he breathes, his fingers working into her hair. "So do I."

They don't dwell on it all the time—they don't have time to dwell on it—what with raising three children, Regina's duties as mayor, Robin's heightened responsibilities at the sheriff's office, and Henry's part-time job at Granny's. But at times like this, when the holidays force life to slow its pace, when family and friends gather more frequently, the utter unfairness of it all hits her all over again.

Their daughter cannot hear. Their daughter cannot speak. These are the consequences Elena lives with simply because she had a biological mother so vile that Emma had been ready to sacrifice Zelena's life for Killian's in her darkened state. Thank God there had been enough of Emma left within her to protect the innocent baby girl growing inside the womb of Regina's now deceased sister. If not, they'd never have been given the gift of parenting this remarkable child who, in spite of her limitations manages to live her life out loud.

Then the bathroom door slams shut, and Regina knows that's her cue. She tosses her husband a fleeting kiss on the cheek before making her way up the steps, an exasperated, "Ellie—what have I told you about leaving your clothes in the hallway?" flying from her lips to her hands just as she rounds the corner.

She knows Robin is chuckling at the bottom of the stairs.

Guests arrive right on time, and the house is full of Locksleys, Mills, Charmings and Joneses. Even Archie, Granny and Marco are able to make it this year, something that means more to Regina than she'll ever let on to anyone besides Robin.

But it's Emma who commands most of her attention, just as she always does whenever she and Ellie are in close proximity to one another. If Regina wears guilt around her waist like a fitted belt, Emma drapes it over her body as a full-length shroud. It's suffocating, stifling, a weighted presence that bears down on the entire gathering in a manner it shouldn't.

"I wasn't sure she was going to come tonight."

Snow stands just behind her, her years as a bandit still allowing her the unnerving ability to sneak up unnoticed.

"Emma?"

Snow nods, her eyes fixed upon her daughter.

"Killian was finally able to convince her," she expounds. "Told her how disappointed Henry would be if she missed out on the extended family celebration."

Regina locates her eldest son in the corner chatting animatedly with Marco.

"Henry can be highly persuasive when he wants to be," Regina states, a small smile tugging up at the corner of her lips.

"I wonder where he gets that from?"

Regina's hard stare melts at Snow's smile.

"From you," Regina shoots back. "And that insufferable grandfather of his. You two could talk a magic bean away from an ogre."

Snow actually chuckles as both women cast glances towards their husbands, now seated together as Neal and Ellie play with their dads' phones while sprawled out on the floor beside them.

"She has to get over this, Regina. The guilt is eating her alive."

"You think I'm not aware of that?" Regina questions, her own guilt pressing against her chest. "I've told her on several occasions that she needs to let it go."

Emma is standing alone in the corner as Roland and Baby Liam continue to command Killian's attention. She's smiling at the boys, but it's the smile of the distracted, of someone watching one scene while obsessing over something else.

"I thought that when Liam was born, she might snap out of it," Snow adds. "But she feels guilty about him, too, about how he was born with all of his senses while Ellie wasn't."

"That's ridiculous," Regina shoots back. "She shouldn't feel guilty that Liam was born with all of his senses intact. That's what every parent wants for their child. Nobody in their right mind would ever wish otherwise for either of them."

"I know, Regina, believe me," Snow agrees. "And I know that neither you nor Robin would ever begrudge Liam that–ever." She sighs, her shoulders slumping with the weight of it. "But Emma–she takes Ellie's deafness and muteness personally. She always has."

Regina exhales, seeking words that flutter stubbornly just beyond her grasp.

"Emma has to let that go. She can't live the rest of her life carrying around that sort of guilt."

She pauses, catching and holding Robin's eyes from across the room. He tosses her a wink just before Neal commands his attention yet again, but it's enough to break through a rising barrier of self-protection starting to envelop her like purple smoke.

"No. She can't. And neither can you."

Snow's words are as direct as her stare.

"I'm dealing with it," Regina tosses back, her brow furrowing in a denial she doesn't feel.

"Good," Snow states. "You need to. And so does Emma."

They both eyeball the blonde, trying not to be obvious when Regina knows full well that they are. Her posture is slumped–not terribly so, but it is far from upright, far from the Emma who drove into Storybrooke ready to take on the world, the Emma she'd wanted to blast back over the town line when she first showed up at her doorstep, the woman who is now her friend, a woman she'd protect with her life if it came down to it.

"I have to deal with it," Regina adds. "It's not good for Ellie to see me feeling guilty over her life, something that is uniquely hers and that I'm powerless to change. Besides, I want her to have as normal a childhood as possible, not one where she feels like everyone is judging her simply because of Zelena or walking around her on eggshells because she can't hear or speak."

The words gush from her mouth to her fingers, unravelling in a rush of feeling Snow accepts without question.

"I can't imagine you ever walking on eggshells, Regina. Poofing them out of the way, perhaps…"

"Did you have a point? Because if so, I'm missing it completely."

It's Snow who chuckles this time, shaking her head before turning her eyes back on her stepmother.

"My point is that Ellie is an amazing little girl–just as she is, and that she's lucky to have you for a mother."

The words spatter across her chest with a gentleness that seeps in and warms what was chilled. Something crumbles inside of her, something that needs to crumble, she realizes, and she lets it continue to disintegrate as a knotted muscle begins to unwind.

"She is," Regina agrees, rolling her eyes at Snow's pointed grin. "A remarkable little girl, that is. I'm the lucky one–the one lucky enough to have her as a daughter." She pauses to look at Emma again, her brow furrowing in time with Snow's. "And if Emma continues to hold herself personally responsible for Ellie's deafness and inability to speak, it will only chip away from the joy she should be experiencing with Liam. That's not fair to either one of them."

They gaze at each other, reading more than will ever be spoken, feeling more than either ever anticipated.

"No–it's not. Time with your children should never be taken for granted or wasted."

"No," Regina states, no longer able to look Snow in the eye. "It shouldn't."

A gentle touch to her arm seeps through bone and muscle, drawing Regina's gaze back to the younger woman.

"You don't have to sign for me, you know."

God–she'd been doing it again. Her face flushes at the realization as she bites her lower lip.

"It's so automatic," Regina says, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Sometimes my hands take on a mind of their own."

"Your hands are your means of communicating with your child," Snow states. "Of course it's automatic. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Robin and I will catch each other signing when nobody else is around," Regina volunteers, having to concentrate to keep her hands still. "We tease each other about it, but…" Her voice trails away as she scans the room. "Where's Ellie?"

Snow peers in Robin and David's direction, seeing the men and Neal just where they'd been moments ago but minus the company of one little girl. She scans the room, her face showing further concern as she looks back at Regina, both women coming to the same realization at the same time.

"Where's Emma?"

* * *

The air is cool on Emma's face, and she welcomes it, breathing it in, wishing it possessed the ability to freeze away what hurts. Yet her face still burns as it always does when she's with Ellie. Hell-it stings, actually, as if her skin has gotten chapped from overexposure to the elements. The heat of shame will never leave her, she realizes. It has marked and condemned her, has read her a sentence she both deserves and despises, a sentence she can never outrun or outlive.

Snow continues to fall, but she barely registers the fact as tears shed only in private prick the edges of her soul. She's supposed to be the savior, damn it, but with Ellie she was the exact opposite. She was the woman who took senses that were not hers to take in an attempt to save Killian and rid the world of Zelena. She'd been the Dark One in every sense of the word when she'd given the witch those onion rings. God, she'd never even considered the effects such a move would have on the innocent little girl growing in a womb not of her choosing.

How do you live with that sort of guilt? The guilt of hurting a child?

It had been hard enough to move on after giving up Henry, but then she'd been able to imagine him growing up with a family, in a nice house, not being moved from home to home or wondering why nobody wanted him. In her dreams, Henry had always been happy, handsome and well-fed, a child who'd been both sought and found, not a baby left to the system who somehow never managed to break free of it.

But Ellie…God, Ellie.

She nearly jumps at the tug on her jacket and turns to see green eyes gazing up at her through the black frame of her glasses and errant strands of blonde hair, a cherubic face that resembles her far more than any child not of her own womb ever should.

"Hi, Ellie."

Her voice and fingers move automatically, the cold making joints ache even as her breath hovers in the air. The child waves back at her, her direct gaze unfaltering, as if she somehow knows what Emma's been thinking.

"It's cold out here, kiddo. You should go back inside."

There's no movement from Ellie, no return, just a stare that slices through her far more effectively than the frigid air.

"You don't want to get sick, do you?" Emma continues, kneeling down to Ellie's level. "Your mom will kill both of us if you do."

The girl continues to stare at her, her gaze fixed and unwavering.

 _Why do I make you sad?_

Shit.

Emma falls back as if she's been physically shoved, just catching herself before her ass hits the porch. She steadies herself before moving back into a kneeling position, not even noticing the bitter cold that presses through fabric where her knee touches down.

"You don't make me sad," Emma protests, trying to make her smile look convincing. "I'm just a little tired tonight." Her lie sounds unconvincing to herself.

 _That's not what your mommy and my mommy said._

Emma's mouth falls open, but no protest emerges. She can imagine all-too-well just what her mother and Regina had said about her, probably unaware that young eyes were taking in a conversation they assumed nobody but the two of them could hear.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, you know."

The girl's brow scrunches in confusion.

 _What's eavesdrop?_

"It's when you listen to something you're not supposed to hear."

Ellie shrugs then as a tug of mischief tugs at the corners of her mouth.

 _I didn't hear anything. I watched._

"Same thing, kid," Emma shoots back. She feels her frustration build before she remembers just with whom she's conversing. It fizzles then, leaking out of her like air from a punctured balloon, draining her once again of all fire until she feels empty.

 _What's wrong?_

"Nothing's wrong, Ellie," she protests, not appreciating being backed into a corner by a pint-sized Mills-Locksley version of herself. "I already told you."

The girl stares back at her unyielding, her breath forming a thick vapor between them in the cold.

 _You think you broke me before I was born, and you're sad about it._

It hurts to breathe, both guilt and frigid air burning her lungs until she feels the need to scream. Dammit. How is it a kid who barely reaches her waist can reduce her to a heap of ash in less than a second?

"Ellie, I…"

 _You didn't break me, Emma. I'm not broken. I'm just me._

She can't breathe, can barely focus as her eyes well yet again.

"I never said you were broken," Emma signs back. "And I know how smart you are."

 _Then why do I make you sad?_

Green eyes demand an answer, and Emma knows she owes Ellie this much.

"Because I'm the reason you can't hear or speak."

The girl blinks twice, her face registering no other form of surprise.

"I put a spell on Zelena before you were born, Ellie, one that made you grow too fast inside of her. It's my fault that you were born like…"

Her words trail off, cut short by emotion and the realization that she'd almost said the wrong thing.

 _Like what?_

Disabled? Incomplete? Robbed of the very senses that were her birthright? The thoughts halt on her tongue, her mind unable to keep up with too many feelings brimming just under the surface.

"Without two of your senses," Emma finally manages. "Without what should have been yours." Emotion clogs her throat, making speech next to impossible, forcing her to rely on her hands.

 _I had no right to take those from you, Ellie._

Tears break free, spilling down her cheeks, warming her skin for a few fleeting seconds. She'd done what she'd sworn never to do to another human being–had taken a little girl's childhood from her for reasons Ellie would never be able to fully comprehend. _This is how it feels to come full-circle_ , she thinks, to inflict a piece of the hell you once inhabited on someone who deserves a world of sound and speech.

Then a small hand wipes her face, the tiny fingers pressed to her cheeks nearly as cold as her own.

 _What if it's not your fault? What if it's just me?_

She's shaking her head, pushing away what she can't allow herself to believe. She can't let go of the guilt–she has no right to live without her self-imposed penance.

 _What if I've always been like this? I'm still okay, aren't I?_

Time stills around the two of them.

"You're more than okay," Emma shoots back. "You're amazing, Ellie."

 _And I can talk and hear. I talk with my hands. I listen with my eyes._

She feels Ellie pull away and watches as the girl walks to the edge of the porch. Small hands are thrust outward into the snowfall, and she smiles then, a smile of hope, wonder and unadulterated joy.

It's the sort of smile only a child can muster.

She skips back, completely unaware of the cold, just staring at her left hand, her smile still in place as she extends her arm towards Emma.

 _Snowflakes,_ Ellie signs one-handed as best as she can. She looks back at Emma to see if she's paying attention and waits until she nods her head before proceeding. _They're all unique and special. Just like people. Just like me._

That does it.

God, she's a sobbing mess, but the tears won't stop, and to be honest, Emma doesn't want them to. They hurt, they overpower, but she needs them for reasons she doesn't quite understand and isn't sure she ever will. Then small arms wrap around her, the very arms Ellie uses to communicate with the world, and Emma picks up the child, cradling her to her chest just as she would Liam, holding her safe against the elements, wanting to press what is good and right about her into her own skin.

She's not cold anymore, or maybe she's just numb to it by now, but she feels warm all over, warm in a way she usually feels only with Henry, Killian or her baby. Its life, Emma thinks, life pressing into sadness, embracing it–engulfing it–asking to transform it into something as new and delicate as a newborn. But in order to allow the transformation to begin, she has to let go of what she's carried for years.

And letting go is frightening. It always has been, even when what she's holding on to hurts like hell.

Ellie pushes back, a smile Emma can only describe as impish beaming back at her.

 _Are you going to stop being sad now?_

She swallows, trying to gather stray thoughts and place them in some semblance of order. She's been sad so long it's become second-nature, a crutch she reaches for without even thinking about it. _How wrong_ , she realizes, thinking of her husband, her teenage son and baby boy, of the life she's been given, of the life here in her arms. She stares into eyes so full of hope they're almost painful to see, but she looks into them all the same, nudging herself towards the freedom being offered, doing her best to sign with one hand while holding Ellie in the other.

"I'll try."

It's all she can promise, perhaps more than she's capable of carrying out, very possibly a life-long task condensed into two words spoken in the cold dusk of Christmas Eve. But it's more than she had just seconds ago.

And by God, it's a start.


	2. Speechless and Spellbound

He'd first noticed there was something wrong the moment she was born, when an open, angry mouth released no more sound than a muted squeak, something so soft and pitiful in nature it stabbed him with the strength of a blade. He'd remembered the force of Roland's first cry, a wail so loud they feared it might send Nottingham in their direction as even the trees seemed to shake from the sheer volume of it.

But his daughter-she was silent. Too silent.

Zelena had watched from the bed, her face screwing into a distaste he'd never forget, one that churned his stomach and made him feel hollow inside.

"What's wrong with her?"

Whale had said nothing, had just stared at the flailing arms and legs with barely more than a cursory glance.

"She just hasn't found her voice yet, I guess. Lucky for you. Enjoy it while you can."

Hot rage had filled him-he'd been ready to nearly throttle the man, but then a pink bundle was placed into his arms, and the world had stopped, just as it had years ago when jet black curls had first brushed against his cheek, and he'd looked down into a face that arrested him on the spot.

He was holding his daughter. And she was beautiful.

She was calm and so tiny, so _perfect_ in every way that mattered. Her nose, her little lips, the tiny dimple in her cheek that made him happier than it should-a marker of some sorts that yes, she was _his_ , not just Zelena's, not just a means to an end but a beautiful living, breathing little girl now entrusted to his care. He would love and protect this daughter of his for the rest of his life with the same ferocity as he did the rest of his family. For she was his family-a child taken from his body without his consent yet now resting in his arms, next to his heart, her soul mingling with his in that way that children have until their very existence is so tied to your own that you don't know where you end and they begin. .

Then there was the way Regina had smiled at her.

He'd seen her pain, he was neither blind nor stupid, but there was a joy that surprised him there, too, mingled into tears and quivering lips, hovering between them in the way she touched his arm, assuring him with every step in his direction, every tear that dripped onto his daughter's cheek that yes-they could do this, yes-she was with him, yes-this little girl would be a treasured part of her life.

She'd called the baby _wonderful_. His soul had taken flight at her words.

 _You should be her mother_ , he thought, knowing better than to speak such thoughts out loud. They would do nothing but anger Zelena and hurt Regina, and by God, he didn't want to do either, not now, not when his family was still held together by bonds more fragile than a hummingbird's wings.

They'd later taken the baby from the hospital, and he'd worried that she might scream and alert the wrong people as to what they were doing, but she didn't. She hadn't made a bloody sound. He'd pushed nagging fears back as far as they would go knowing that danger was imminent and that they'd no time to worry about anything but protecting her from both Zelena and Emma. But his unrest never truly went away, just as her unnatural muteness lingered.

Her silence had actually been a blessing in the hours that followed-that is, until Regina realized that the baby couldn't cry. She'd grown unnaturally silent, had been unable to look at the child, and he began to fear that she found his daughter lacking, that her condition was yet another disappointment in a life littered with them. His head had pounded as fears for his baby and his relationship with Regina began to devour him from the inside out, and he wondered just how he would do this without her. He couldn't-god, he wasn't strong enough-he needed Regina just as badly as his lungs needed air.

Then brown eyes had finally looked at him filled with tears that sliced him open.

"This is my fault," she'd whispered, her lips trembling as violently as his hands. "The muting spell."

He'd grabbed her with one arm while holding his child in the other, breathing impassioned _no's_ into her hair.

"Emma did this," he'd insisted. "Perhaps even Zelena. But not you, Regina. Not you. This is not your fault."

He'd known then that she hadn't believed him.

The crib had been moved into their bedroom so they could hear her movement and squeaks, knowing that a monitor would do them little good when their baby couldn't cry. She could flail, however, and kick with a fury that shouldn't have taken him by surprise but somehow had. Every day he wondered if by some miracle his Elena would regain her voice, if he'd hear her scream or babble or coo. And every day when that failed to happen, he watched Regina retreat further into a brittle shell of self-blame.

It had been Regina's tears that had first alerted him to other problems as she'd slid back into bed one night sometime between three and four a.m., her face damp and her body shaking.

"I don't think she can hear me, Robin," she'd murmured, the words tumbling out of her in a panic. "I really don't think she can."

Speech deserted her as sobs took over, and he'd held her, had pulled her impossibly close as her words began to take root and his own tears fell. _No-not this, too-not her hearing. It's not fair. It's too much._

"She responds to touch," Regina had continued as she'd clung to his damp tank top, her grip tight and unrelenting. "To things she can see and feel, but not to voices-not to sounds."

His hands and feet had grown impossibly cold.

He'd slipped out of bed once she'd finally fallen back into an uneasy sleep, padding softly to the crib on the other side of their bedroom to stare down at the little girl who'd been denied what should have been her birthright. He'd picked her up, he couldn't help it, even though she slept soundly and he knew it was unwise to disturb her. But he needed the soft weight of her in his arms, and he moved to sit in the oversized chair in the corner, cradling her to his heart, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing as he gazed through the crack left by the drapes covering the windows.

"My baby," he'd breathed, cupping her nearly bald head that smelled of lotion and new life. "My precious little girl."

Ten fingers, ten toes, brilliant blue eyes that took in everything around her. But no voice, no means of hearing. Was his daughter to be entombed in a world of silence for the rest of her life? He'd remained awake until the first rays of dawn began to make themselves known, and Regina had later found him snoring in the chair, Elena curled up contentedly against him, the pink quilt Granny had made for her draped over them both.

They'd taken her to a specialist in Boston where their fears had been confirmed but no cause for her hearing and speech losses could be established.

"We can't exactly tell them about muting spells and enchanted onion rings, can we," Regina had stated as she'd buckled Ellie into her car seat for the drive home.

"The muting spell had nothing to do with this," he assured her once more, hating the doubt that lingered over her like a phantom. "Trust me, Regina."

But she'd said nothing in response.

In fact, they'd ridden in silence the entire way home, acting as if listening to music or the news was somehow distasteful with Elena resting in the seat behind them. It stung, being this close to each other but hurting alone, yet he allowed Regina to process just as he tried to sort through feelings so sharp he was certain they drew blood.

When they'd arrived back in Storybrooke, he'd reached for her across the seat, and their hands had joined in a grip that steadied both of them, her fingers as icy as his own.

"She's going to be alright, isn't she?"

The question rushed out of him just after she'd parked the car, the words burning his throat as they tumbled out of his body. He felt her stiffen and then relax as a surge of strength passed between them.

"Of course she is. We'll make certain of it."

It was the most determined he'd heard Regina's voice since Ellie's birth. And he couldn't help but believe her.

Life began to take on a new sort of normalcy that day, one he cherishes every moment of every day as he breathes in the patchwork quilt that is his family.

Bedtime stories are now drawn onto a ticklish belly, lullabies traced onto a soft forehead, driven by the gentle pulse of a rocking chair. Signs are practiced, small fingers manipulated into one word communications, and her first belly laugh is recorded even though no sound accompanies a face completely alight with joy.

For she is happy, his Elena- _their_ Elena. She truly belongs to them all.

She is learning, growing, and experiencing her world, making sense of the life she's been given even without what she's been denied. He continually marvels at how quickly Roland has mastered sign language, at the dexterity and grace that flies from Regina's fingers, at Henry's animated games he crafts simply for the enjoyment of his little sister. Robin laughs when Regina curses under her breath as a certain sign slips her memory, and he privately rejoices as shards of unwarranted guilt are replaced daily by the tenacious blossoms of motherhood.

His family isn't fragile anymore.

They now take turns rocking her to sleep each night, he and Regina, and he can't help but smile whenever Ellie's hands reach for his lips, touching them as they move, marvelling at her daddy just as he marvels at her. He still wishes she could hear and speak, but she is perfect just as she is, a wonder of life and resilience, a reminder that something beautiful can emerge from great pain.

Ellie defines their life, he realizes, stubbornly prospering in the midst of difficulties, thriving when the odds are stacked against her, refusing to give up even if she has to work harder to succeed. She is truly a Mills woman, a Locksley child, an unplanned blending of genetics now thriving under the guidance of a mother who chose her and a father who knows she owns his heart.

"My baby,", he utters, drawing a small heart onto her chest through her lavender sleeper as the moon punctuates the darkness that defines four a.m.. He smiles tonight as blue eyes finally close and her body molds itself to his chest in a move so familiar he cannot imagine life without it. "My precious little girl."


	3. Speechless and Spotlighted

It all began innocently enough.

Roland had broken his leg-that boy of his was far more accident-prone than any Merry Man had a right to be-and Robin and Regina both rushed to the hospital to watch as yet another fractured limb was set and wrapped securely in a cast. Poor Ellie had to be dragged along, and she sat there patiently enough playing _Angry Birds_ on his phone while Robin waited for word. But as well-behaved as she was being, Robin could tell that she was bored-terribly bored.

That is until Marco happened upon the scene.

The man had offered to take Elena home with him, and Robin had agreed, knowing the older man's workshop would be far more interesting to a five year old girl than a hospital waiting room. Far less germ-infested, too, Regina had muttered as Ellie took Marco's hand and waved goodbye to her parents.

She'd had a marvelous time, that much was obvious when they'd arrived later to pick her up, but neither he nor Regina had expected to be regaled by daily requests to go back to "Papa Marco's". Robin was convinced the man had some sort of special knack with children, for it certainly seemed as though his girl had been thoroughly enchanted by him during her brief stay at his house.

Yet as one visit led to another, Robin suspected that the simple fact was that their relationship seemed to be a mutually beneficial one. Marco doted on Elena, taking his time as he signed one word commands and speaking slowly enough for the girl to read his lips, clearly relishing having another chance to interact with a child. And in this gentle man, Ellie had finally found someone to act as her grandfather. For she had no grandparents, their Elena. Neither did Roland for that matter, but his attachment to Little John and the other Merry Men had always seemed to fill that void in his son's life.

Perhaps Marco was doing the same for Ellie. The thought warmed Robin's heart.

So the visits continue on a weekly basis, strategically scheduled when Roland and Henry are also out of the house to provide some much needed alone time for two tired parents. He and Regina have managed a couple of dinners out, but they usually opt for some quiet time at the house. When you're the parents of three, quiet time alone is a delicacy.

She's lying half on top of him now as he relishes the feel of her bare back under his palm, and he kisses her forehead, still damp from the aftermath of long-overdue sex. She nuzzles into him, practically purring as his hand cups her bottom.

"I have to get up, you know."

He hates the sound of his own words, wishing for another hour or two just to lie here like this, bodies bare, limbs intertwined. Her nails etch soft lines down his torso, making him hum in appreciation.

"I could just poof her home, you know," Regina mutters without bothering to open her eyes. "Give us a few extra minutes in bed. I'm sure Ellie won't mind."

"Probably not," Robin chuckles. "But you might give poor Marco a heart attack."

She sighs in acknowledgement as one eye finally pops open.

"What do you think they get up to over there?"

He shrugs as best he can with her head practically pinning one shoulder to the pillow.

"Whatever it is, it thrills our girl to no end," he answers. "She'd told me that the two of them are working on a surprise for us."

Regina presses herself up on one elbow, allowing her hair to fall onto his chest.

"You don't think he's letting her use power tools, do you?"

He laughs at this before losing his fingers in her hair.

"Do you think Marco even owns a power tool? That man crafts everything the old fashioned way. I think all of his tools came over with him from the Enchanted Forest."

"True," Regina acknowledges, smiling as her husband claims her mouth in a kiss.

"Besides," Robin adds. "He raised August in his workshop. I'm sure he knows all about keeping a child safe in that setting."

He slides out of bed and pulls on his jeans, gazing back at the glorious sight of Regina sitting naked in their bed, the sheets pooling strategically around her waist, her breasts full and exposed. He nearly reconsiders her offer to simply poof their daughter home for just a few more minutes of this.

"I'll be back," he murmurs, moving in for one more lingering kiss, wondering if he'll ever tire of making love to this woman. He certainly doesn't think so.

Ellie dashes out to meet him as he approaches Marco's place, practically jumping into his arms with enough energy to fuel his Jeep for a month as he reaches the door.

 _Just wait until you see our surprise, Daddy_ , she signs, her smile as radiant as he's ever seen it. _You won't believe it!_

Robin sets her down and kneels in front of her.

 _Can you give me a hint?_ he asks, sighing in an exaggerated manner as she shakes her head decisively.

 _No hints, Daddy. You'll just have to wait and see._

She has her mother's stubborn streak-that's for certain.

Two weeks pass, and they find themselves in the midst of this year's Miner's Festival. Regina has been driving them all a bit batty with all of the balls she's had to juggle to make this event happen, and this year Henry is volunteering at the Animal Shelter booth. Roland has disappeared somewhere into the throngs of Storybrooke residents, so it's just Robin and Ellie at the moment, strolling hand in hand through the booths and games as Ellie proudly totes the giant teddy bear her daddy just won for her playing ring toss.

They've consumed bratwurst and shared a funnel cake, and Robin can't help but grin at the fact that there's still powdered sugar on his daughter's chin.

 _Here sweetheart_ , he says, kneeling down in front of her. _Let me wipe that off before Mommy sees._

He hasn't seen hide nor hair of his wife for nearly an hour, although a mysterious plume of purple smoke has just been spotted wafting in their direction from the vicinity of the Ferris Wheel. He's told that the ride is now back in working order after having issues getting stuck all morning. He only prays that Roland had nothing to do with the wheel's mysterious glitches. The boy has been joking for days that he was planning on getting Jasmine Amira stuck with him on top of the ill-fated wheel to give her a kiss, and Robin knows his son too well not to at least suspect the boy. He's as sneaky and resourceful as Robin ever was and could have been one hell of a thief had they still resided in the Enchanted Forest.

Unfortunately for Roland, his mother the mayor doesn't look kindly upon banditry as a pastime or potential profession.

Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Roland for nearly the same amount of time that he hasn't seen his wife. The lad could already be getting his comeuppance at the hands of a true master, also known as his mom, the former queen. Poor Roland.

He feels a tug on his arm and looks down to see Ellie pulling him towards the puppet stage Marco constructed for the festival. He allows her to drag him smilingly along, noting that the next performance is scheduled to begin in ten minutes. She locates a long bench close to the stage and nudges him into the seat.

 _Wait here, Daddy,_ she instructs, her expression resolute.

 _Where are you going?_

Her grin is immediate as she points to the stage just behind her.

 _To see Papa Marco?_ he asks, watching as the man of the hour steps out from behind the stage and motions for Ellie to join him. _Alright. But don't go anywhere else._

Small arms wrap around his neck before she bounces backwards and dashes towards the puppet stage. Marco waves at Robin before taking Ellie's hand and leading her behind the stage curtains.

Wait. Could this be Ellie's big surprise?

He shoots off a text to Regina, looking up every so often to see if Elena has emerged from backstage. She hasn't, and they are now a mere seven minutes away from showtime.

 _You need to get to the puppet stage now._

He hits send before jotting off identical messages to both Roland and Henry, his heart beating quicker with each minute that passes.

 _What's Roland done now?_

He chuckles at Regina's reply.

 _It's not Roland, it's Ellie. I think her surprise is going to start in about five minutes._

His phone vibrates almost immediately.

 _On my way._

Henry slides in beside him, a motley looking pup in his arms, one Robin is certain his younger children will beg to take home the moment the dog is seen. Then Roland plops down beside Henry, and looks right at Robin.

"So what's up?" Roland asks, flinching as he spots his mother moving towards them from the crowd. Robin feels a kiss to his forehead and winces at the scalding glance his wife directs towards their curly-headed son. God, he's thankful it's Roland on the receiving end of that look and not him.

"I didn't want you to miss the show," Robin answers, sliding his arm around Regina as she sits to his right.

"Where's Ellie?"

She looks around furiously, but Robin raises a hand in her direction before she can become too anxious.

"Just wait," he says. "I assure you that she's in good hands."

Some music is piped over a speaker alerting the crowd that the show is about to begin.

"She'll want to see this, Robin," Regina whispers, still searching for her daughter. "You know how much she adores Marco."

"Trust me, love," he breathes with a kiss to her cheek. "She's not missing a thing."

Just then there is applause as a marionette appears on the stage, a young boy with blonde hair wearing what Robin now knows is called lederhosen. Then there's more applause as a second puppet joins him-a small goat that gallops with quite a bit less finesse but more enthusiasm than he's ever seen. Its hooves sometimes don't quite reach the ground, but it bounces and twirls to the music, music he knows its puppeteer cannot even hear.

She feels it, however. She always has.

Those two puppets are quickly replaced by two wooden men carrying steins, one moving expertly, the other staggering behind as if he's had a few too many at _The Rabbit Hole_. The audience laughs as the second puppet collides with the first, and Robin cannot tell if the move was practiced or unplanned, but it works.

"Marco needs a new assistant," Regina muses with a shake of her head. "His shows are usually more polished than this."

"I think she's perfect," Robin grins, watching as a new background unfurls on the stage. Its then that comprehension hits, and Regina's eyes widen to the size of two tennis balls.

"Oh my God," she breathes. "You mean Ellie?"

His smile is all the answer she needs.

The little blonde boy returns, this time followed by a blonde girl marionette who wears a pink dress and staggers nearly as badly as the man in the previous scene. Regina's laughing now, her eyes fixed upon the stage as the two puppets are then met by the girl's mama with a gleaming gloat. They all dance as the music reaches a climax and the puppets take a dramatic bow. Robin and Regina are on their feet immediately, and Henry and Roland then follow their lead, still a bit uncertain of what the enthusiasm is all about.

Then Marco emerges from backstage holding a small hand within his own-the hand of his assistant puppeteer.

"Ellie did that?"

It's Roland who yells this as he claps with more gusto than anyone else in the audience, making Regina shake her head as he whoops and hollers and finally cries out _Ellie!_ loudly enough to be heard all the way to the dunking booth.

Of course, Ellie doesn't hear him, but she sees-oh, how she sees. And she's smiling and bowing, practically floating as she looks at her parents and waves in their direction. Tears hit him then, and Robin swallows hard, his throat suddenly thick, his heart as full as it's ever been.

"She's something, isn't she?" Henry grins, holding the puppy in one arm as he throws his baby sister a thumbs up she returns with gusto.

"Yes," Robin says, unashamed of the tears now dripping down his cheeks. "That she is."

Ellie makes a bee-line for her mother who hugs and makes over her and finally agrees to a backstage tour. Robin watches the two of them go through the curtains, losing himself in his thoughts until a warm palm touches his shoulder.

"She's a special girl, your Elena."

He turns to see Marco standing to his left, and he extends his hand towards him, smiling as the older man takes it within his own.

"Thank you for this," Robin returns, clearing his throat. "This has meant everything to her."

They gaze at each other, blue meeting brown, a mutual understanding of fatherhood passing between them.

"She has a talent, you know," Marco continues. "She actually helped me make the goat, and she has good instincts."

Robin inhales, taking in the man's praise, wondering why he should be so surprised that his daughter can excel in such a performance medium.

"I never knew," he returns, shaking his head at himself. Marco smiles then, nodding in an unspoken understanding.

"You don't have to be able to hear to laugh at or to make a puppet," the older man says. "And you don't have to speak to entertain the world with one. You just have to have imagination."

He hears Regina's voice and looks up to see his wife and daughter heading in their direction. His hands hastily wipe his cheeks, and he beams at a skipping Ellie and the goat marionette she carries with pride.

"Ellie helped make this one," Regina says, her hands gliding along with her words so everyone is included in the conversation.

"That's what Marco told me," Robin returns, kneeling down to his daughter's level. "I'm so proud of you, Ellie."

Her cheeks are pink from smiling so much, and she nods as she bounces on her feet, the little white goat bouncing right along with her. Marco smiles before signing words that nearly make the girl take flight.

 _It's yours_.

Elena is in his arms before Robin has time to blink, and he feels Regina lean into him as their daughter shares a moment with the man she's chosen to be her grandfather. And why shouldn't they choose each other, Robin thinks. Their entire family is a family of choice, after all, one made of bonds far stronger than those of mere biology.

Marco lets go, but only to lean back far enough to ask Ellie _Same time next week?_

She looks up at her parents expectantly and receives two nods of approval.

 _Yes,_ she answers. _Same time next week._

The older man then gives them a nod before turning towards his son, and August tosses them a wave as the two men head towards the bratwurst stand. The rest of the day is spent riding rides, playing games, and dancing to the Dwarf's Band that isn't half bad, actually. The Locksley-Mills family trudges home later that night with stomachs full of fair food and muscles that ache in places Robin had forgotten existed.

"The puppet show was the highlight of my day."

He slides into bed, exhausted limbs nearly melting into the mattress.

"No question," Regina returns as she lays down the book she's been reading and removes her glasses. "It certainly beat the hell out of me trying to explain to Jasmine's father just how his daughter and my son ended up stranded on the top of the Ferris Wheel together for nearly half an hour. I swear, the man acts like the sultan of Storybrooke sometimes."

Robin's temples begin to ache as he thinks about the impending conversation he needs to have with a certain eleven year old Romeo. He's also certain this isn't the time to confess to his wife that he'd actually set a trap for her during their year together in the Enchanted Forest, simply so she'd have no choice but to finally give him her full attention. Of course, if some proper snogging had come along with said attention, it wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest.

Unfortunately, Friar Tuck had tripped the line before Regina came anywhere near it.

"He didn't actually try to kiss her, did he?" Robin ventures, uncertain if he really wants to know the answer.

"No, thank God," Regina sighs as she slides into his side. "But they did hold hands."

"Ah. Young love."

"Young pre-teen boy hormones, you mean," she corrects, wincing as her shoulder muscles cinch up. "I'm not ready for another teenager, Robin."

His lips touch the top of her head, and he feels her begin to relax into him, muscle by muscle.

"I'm not certain I am either," he admits. "But that comes along with parenting, I suppose."

He strokes her hair, relishing the feel of her breath on his skin.

"Ellie was amazing today."

He smiles up at the ceiling, allowing his fingers to massage her scalp, remembering the smile his girl had worn as she bowed and bowed after her big performance.

"She's amazing every day, I think," he muses, feeling her hum of agreement in his ribs just before her arm drapes across his stomach and heavy eyelids finally drift shut.


End file.
